


A hundred witches...

by dledee



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Dream Sequence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:43:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dledee/pseuds/dledee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night it's all set to end, final thoughts before following through with the plan that would put an end to Klaus' life once and for all.<br/>Sometimes memories haunt you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A hundred witches...

"A hundred witches…"

The voice was barely a whisper at the back of his mind the moment he closed his eyes. One he knew wasn’t truly there but made him smile all the same. He remembered, through all those years, he always remembered the little things they’d expect him to forget. Because how are you supposed to move forward if you forget the past?

"I seem to recall  _someone_  once telling me that’s how many witches it would take to put him in his place.”

"And me thinking you’d forgotten."

A slight smile formed on his lips. She was a memory, a distant echo of a long ago time, back when he had let Klaus dictate his life. Well, today it would change. He had the hundred witches, the one required to channel their strength, all the ingredients required in order to make his brother finally bow down.

The day for it all to end.

"Yet something troubles you."

Had she always been this good at reading him? Or was it because she was an image of his subconscious? Bringing out the doubts that haunted him in the shape of a form that had never left him?

Because he had  _killed_  her. By taking an interest. By caring. He’d lived long enough by then to realize how he could never have won that battle for love, not even if she was a witch who could easily make a vampire bow to her will. There was no power strong enough to stand in between Klaus and his paranoia.

Except for a hundred witches.

A hundred witches and an inexperienced youngling that he was putting his complete faith into.

"Is that what you want to discuss? Is that what the image haunting my thoughts wishes to discuss when I’m so close to avenging all those mindless kills?"

For a moment, he could see the doubt glisten through her eyes, mirrored from his own. The remembrance of all he had done for Klaus before, all that he still thought he could do. Yes, she could easily see how in the back of his mind he thought that this could’ve been avoided. That at some point in time, he had taken a wrong turn and ended them in this situation.

And how maybe he just had yet to find the key to turn the situation around. He could see what she feared, could see in her what  _all_  the Mystic Falls inhabitants feared even if they were too cowardly to speak the actual words.

She wasn’t.

"You will not falter?"

But he wished not to talk, taking her hand and pulling her to him, one of those dances from long ago that the world had forgotten but they hadn’t. And of course she could see what he was doing. After all, she was living only as a fragment of his imagination. But she remained quiet, letting him twirl her through imaginary ballrooms, holding on to those moments before the final choice was taken.

"He has a lot he must answer for."

"That is not what I asked of you."

Much less what she  _wanted_  to hear. But there was no use having either side insist on carrying on the dialogue. They both knew that was it. That those were the only words that would be spoken until the dreaded moment.

So instead of trying anymore he took her lips into his as he had so many times before, knowing all too well how it would be the last time. No matter how this went, the images would stop. He either could avenge her death and thousands of others and no longer require the comfort of whatever his mind could conjure up. Or he’d fail and no longer be worthy of any soothing memories his mind would enjoy playing on him.

It was one last embrace, one last lingering feeling of her shape in his arms as the image begun to slip away, to dissolve back into the treasure chest of memories his mind was. There were too many there.

When it was over, when he could no longer feel the comfort, when he could no longer pretend there was a ghost there, his eyes opened to face up the diary volume he had pulled up for this, the one he had kept close for all the years he had spent plotting this  _little_  vengeance. 

One moment before he closed it up, saving it again on what he usually referred to as ‘the emergency chest’, the one thing to keep near should he have to run, should his father get too close. Little things one got used to by being always on the run, carrying the past on his back while being chased by it. It was ironic.

But today he  _would_  do it. Take a step away and be free from that past’s influence, move on from the person who had let others like Celeste die.

For all the souls that could still be saved if he did it now. For the forgiveness he would achieve for those who had been stripped of their lives before their time.

**He _would_  do it.**


End file.
